She has left you again, and like a television
left on standby, I am ready to be turned on,
I am ready to turn you on.
You shift your body weight against me.
The lights turn off and everything is dark,
save for your skin, translucent quartz.
The horror film makes your femur quiver.
I can do the same.
Look: here is my hand,
guide me to the nook of veins in yours,
where it bisects, little river,
my fingers will dance, skimming water,
subtle swans, disturbing the surface
as I ripple across your body hair.
Television turns to black with a button.
We are witnessed by the red iris of standby,
no discrimination in his scarlet eye.
You say you are confused by what you see.
I patiently wait for that confusion to clear.
But the truth is that if you were confused,
you’d change to a different channel, and
I’d fall asleep watching someone else.
[Inspiration / Title taken from this article: https://www.thecut.com/2018/11/ask-polly-hes-confused-should-i-wait-for-him.html%5D
Follow Oscar on Instagram @oscarstirlingpayne and his blog stirlingpoetry.wordpress.com
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